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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27449419">say you love me every waking moment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyas/pseuds/illyas'>illyas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Reunions, it is absolutely criminal how few works are in the andromaquynh tag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:09:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27449419</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyas/pseuds/illyas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy dreams the same dream every day since she lost her heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache of Scythia &amp; Quynh | Noriko, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>say you love me every waking moment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719570">i wanna see your face (and know i made it home)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coruscant/pseuds/Coruscant">Coruscant</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"I kiss you—across hundreds of separating years."<br/>–Marina Tsvetayeva</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Andy dreams the same dream every day since she lost her heart. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The time, the place—these things are always different, and always inconsequential. The face haunting her always stays the same, a drifting ghost eating away at her peaceful nights. Five hundred years, and Andy still doesn’t know if she dreads the dreams or longs for them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is a pattern to how they begin. Quynh and her on some new adventure, or tangled together in bed, or laughing in the booth of that diner down the street—it doesn’t matter in the end. As soon as Andy lets herself slip into the giddy happiness of the image, as soon as she feels the warmth of Quynh’s love sinking into her skin again, the executioner’s blade comes crashing down. She feels Quynh’s hatred for the hundred thousandth time, feels the weight of her own failure sitting on her shoulders, an ocean of guilt that only grows as the years pass her by. Half a paradise, half a hell. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They are all the more painful now that Andy’s time is finally running out. With eternity stretching before her there had been a quiet hope that kept on burning in the crevasses of her heart. Plans built on future technologies, wild escapes that would bring her heart back to her. But destiny isn't so kind. She will take her memories of Quynh to the grave before the chance to make new ones is ever offered. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Another night, another dream. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Andy doesn’t feel sleep drag her into its arms this time, but the fiction betrays itself soon enough. Quynh’s face is as beautiful as ever, a near-heavenly rage painted on her glowing features. Andy can never breathe when she sees her again, never fails to choke on the dream’s failed potential as those blame-filled eyes pull her into their thrall. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Andromache,” says the ghost. Her voice is cold as the Atlantic. “Did you miss me, my love?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s rare for the dreams to speak so many words. Andy’s night are more often painted in blood and tears than the sweet song of conversation. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How will you kill me this time, my dearest?” she asks in return.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Andy knows the answer already. This part, too, is always consistent. Quynh’s fingers reaching for her in a mockery of a lover’s embrace, winding around her neck, as tender as they are brutal. Five hundred years of waterlogged madness unleashed in a single heartbeat. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have killed you many times, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The ghost speaks so gently that Andy could weep. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Every night,” she says. “I only wish that I could stay dead in dreams too. I could die happy with my final breath caught in your hands.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This spectre of Quynh twists her mouth in ugly shock. <em>That</em> is not consistent. Andy’s imagination usually conjures up a mask of wild satisfaction to lay over Quynh’s face, a righteous fury that washes away the fear-soaked expression branded into Andy’s memory. This new version who looks almost concerned, almost sorrowful, is somehow more painful to see. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Andromache,”—God, Quynh says her name as if the last five hundred years are nothing but dust—“what are you saying?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quynh moves closer, takes <em>one, two, three</em> steps towards Andy who waits with baited breath and beating heart for the hands that will surely wrap themselves around her throat. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They never come. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, she feels cold fingers land on her cheek. Quynh’s thumb strokes gently over her skin. Her face is unreadable. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You should kill me before I wake up,” Andy whispers. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She can’t drag her gaze away from Quynh. There is a spark in her love’s eyes that Andy has not been able to picture in centuries.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you think you are dreaming?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know I am,” says Andy.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She feels Quynh’s breath on her lips, strangely warm despite being woven together by a fantasy, and hopes desperately never to wake. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If I were you,” says Quynh, leaning ever closer, “I would not be so certain.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry in advance for any spelling mistakes, I cranked this one out in one short sitting. Hope you enjoyed the read :)</p><p>I didn't realize until after I'd finished writing, but it's lowkey inspired by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719570">i wanna see your face (and know i made it home)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coruscant/pseuds/Coruscant">coruscant</a> so go read that story because it's lovely and way more complete than this drabble!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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